


he tastes like you (only sweeter)

by flyingthesky



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Multi, Public Blow Jobs, Sex on a Car, Sibling Incest, Snowballing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-10
Updated: 2010-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingthesky/pseuds/flyingthesky
Summary: Party Poison, Kobra Kid, and Jet Star are a couple miles away from the base and the Trans Am stalls out, because that's just their luck. Party Poison slumps against the steering wheel."Fuck."Kobra Kid snorts. "Might as well, until Fun Ghoul can get here and fix this piece of junk."
Relationships: Jet Star/Kobra Kid/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Kudos: 3





	he tastes like you (only sweeter)

Party Poison, Kobra Kid, and Jet Star are a couple miles away from the base and the Trans Am stalls out, because that's just their luck. Party Poison slumps against the steering wheel. 

"Fuck." 

Kobra Kid snorts. "Might as well, until Fun Ghoul can get here and fix this piece of junk." 

Because they're brothers, and because they've always been in synch, when Party Poison lifts his head to meet Kobra Kid's gaze, they both turn inquisitively toward Jet Star. It's a little "creepy twins from _The Shining_," but Jet Star is used to that. He looks back at them, a little confused. Party Poison licks his lips, a bad habit left over from Before, and raises an eyebrow in question.

"What are you two looking at?" Jet Star asks, but he already knows the answer. "Someone should go get Fun Ghoul."

Jet Star seems uninterested, but both Party Poison and Kobra Kid know that Jet Star is just as easy as they are. There isn't enough privacy anymore to fuck and not enough stability for lovers, so being easy somehow became default for everyone. Jet Star is no exception to this. 

"Nah," Kobra Kid says as he steps out of the car, "Fun Ghoul has a sixth sense about the car. He'll know it's broken, which gives us time to do more interesting things." 

"Like what?"

It's probably meant to be derogatory, a firm _no_, but it comes out just a little breathy the way Jet Star says it. Party Poison's lips curve into a wicked smile, mirrored by Kobra Kid.

"I always wanted to blow someone against a broken-down Trans Am," Party Poison says, casually. 

"Liar," Jet Star says, but there's no heart in it, "you just made that up." 

"He's not lying," Kobra Kid replies easily, "we totally used to talk about it as kids."

Jet Star sounds a little husky when he says: "That's an oddly specific fantasy." 

"I'm an oddly specific guy," Party Poison laughs as he twists to lean into the backseat, almost face to face with Jet Star.

It's an invitation and a challenge at the same time, their faces only centimeters apart, and Jet Star takes it as he closes the last bit of space between them, so their lips are pressed together—his chapped and dry against Party Poison's slightly damp. Kobra Kid clears his throat after a moment and they break apart, looking over at him. 

"Blowing someone against a Trans Am works better," Kobra Kid says, bored, "if the person is actually leaning against the Trans Am."

"Right," Jet Star mumbles, "right." 

He stumbles as he gets out of the car, Kobra Kid catching him with an amused look as Party Poison walks around the car. By the time he makes it all the way around, Kobra Kid has Jet Star pressed against the Trans Am and they're kissing, desperate and needy. Party Poison walks up and bites the vein of Jet Star's neck, sucking so there will be a mark later.

Jet Star and Kobra Kid break apart not too long after that, and Kobra Kid moves to the side so Party Poison can grab a quick kiss before he sinks to his knees. Eyes locked to Jet Star, Party Poison slowly undoes the button on Jet Star's too-tight pants and shoves them down far enough so that he has access to Jet Star's cock. There isn't any underwear to deal with, because Jet Star doesn't wear underwear. None of them do—it became an unnecessary thing when your clothes never got clean and couldn't be washed. It makes sex easier too, and Party Poison has no qualms about admitting that. Wrapping a hand around the base and pressing one hand to Jet Star's hip so he won't gag, Party Poison slowly takes Jet Star's cock into his mouth.

When Party Poison gets a rhythm going, it isn't any surprise at all to feel the familiar presence of Kobra Kid beside him. Kobra Kid licks at the spaces between Party Poison's fingers, his hand splayed on Jet Star's other hip, and Party Poison releases Jet Star's cock to let Kobra Kid have his fill. They must look obscene, on their knees on a desert road, pressing someone to the car and sucking him off. Lips stretched obscenely, the spit trailing between the tip of Jet Star's cock and Party Poison's mouth as he pulls off so he can trade places with Kobra Kid. While they trade, Kobra Kid runs a hand over the clear outline of Party Poison's cock. Their tight jeans hide nothing, and for a second Party Poison forgets what he's doing, in favor of making a strangled noise. In retaliation, he palms at Kobra Kid's cock—which earns him obscene groans from both Kobra Kid and Jet Star.

Jet Star doesn't last very long after that, which doesn't surprise Party Poison. Kobra Kid milks Jet Star, though carefully not swallowing. When Kobra Kid finally pulls off, he turns and tugs sharply on Party Poison's shirt. Their lips crash together, and Party Poison obediently opens his mouth and lets Kobra Kid feed him Jet Star's cum. They kiss, absolutely filthy and dirty, still kneeling in the dust, and it isn't until they hear the roar of a motorcycle that they break apart. 

"Son of a bitch," Party Poison hears Fun Ghoul say distantly, "she's wrecked again. This'll take a while to fix."

"Just fix it as fast as you can," Jet Star responds, having somehow regained motor function and brainpower. "It's not a big deal." 

Before, it would have been a big deal. Now, though, it's just fucking normal.

**Author's Note:**

> This was apparently written for the Killjoys kink meme on LJ. I have no memory of that place. I also have no memory of writing this, but it only seems appropriate to repost it in California, 2019.


End file.
